"Welcome to Asgard." Apollo took a second to compose himself as Bifrost faded around him. He was in a golden circular room, the walls lined with men and women in partial ornate armor in golds and silvers and bronzes and dyed leathers and furs. Actual warriors in full armor were dotted throughout the crowd.

Apollo stepped forward off the main platform and onto the top stair down to the main floor. Odin stood in front of him, flanked by who must've been his wife, Frigga, and Thor. They all stood regally, with simple smiles, though Frigga's looked more genuine than the others. "Thank you for your hospitality, King Odin," Apollo said, dropping into a bow. "I look forward to my stay here, and forging a strong bond between our two peoples."

It was colder than Apollo had expected. His thick woolen himation was draped loosely enough to allow the chill air to his skin. He summoned a tiny fraction of his power to warm himself up; hopefully none of the Asgardians picked up on his tiny shiver. He straightened back up and continued down the stairs as Thor began to make his way up to the Bifrost platform.

Thor held out his hand and Apollo shook it. Oh, wow, that was some grip. Gods, this man was probably a master at hugs, among…other things. "Enjoy Manhattan, Prince Thor," Apollo said, hoping he had successfully sounded not flirty at all.

"Aye, I shall," Thor replied. He stood on the main platform and disappeared in a flash of light. Apollo made a mental note to figure out how the Bifrost worked. Teleportation would be useful on Olympus, since most of the minor gods relied on their own speed or chariots to move around.

"Apollo," Odin said, gesturing around the room. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Frigga, Queen of Asgard, and my court, the most noble and honorable of the Asgardians. Come, we have prepared a feast."

Odin led Apollo outside of the room, where three horses, bigger than any horse Apollo had seen in a thousand years or so, waited. One had eight legs-Sleipnir, Apollo recalled from his reading- and all were adorned in the same style of decorative armor all the Asgardians wore. Even the horses were buff as all hell; he really stood out with his lithe figure.

Apollo followed on horseback through the streets of Asgard once they finished crossing the glowing rainbow bridge, 'An extension of the Bifrost', Odin explained. It wasn't just the nobility dressed in armor, it seemed to be the standard everyday wear for everyone above a certain age, though he saw quite a few children wearing bracers or leather cuirasses of their own. He received fewer stares than he expected, even dressed drastically differently from everyone. Above them, the palace loomed and blazed golden in the sun. It's shape reminded Apollo of a pipe organ, or an upside down pan flute. They dismounted their horses at the gates to the palace.

The actual entrance to the palace was lined with warriors in the same armor as the ones by the Bifrost, with full metal breastplates and heavy helmets with giant horns and shimmery capes that looked as if they were made of the tightest chainmail Apollo had ever seen. He'd have to get a closer look later. The giant doors opened into an even gianter throne room, in the same gold as the exterior of the palace, though with beautiful reliefs on the walls and pillars. The ceiling was decorated in paintings that depicted key events from Asgardian history, probably more than Apollo could make out some hundred feet below. He'd fly up and check them out in closer detail eventually.

"Lord Apollo, archer, poet, and healer," Odin said, continuing up to the throne and sitting down. Frigga took her place standing beside him, the long train of her gown settling into place behind her effortlessly. "I am glad that the Olympian Council has allowed our longstanding Treaty to remain in effect, even though a traitor has recently broken the terms. I hope that we can improve the relationship between our two peoples, and strengthen the bond we began to form two thousand years ago."

"I as well, King Odin," Apollo replied.

"However, I must insist on establishing boundaries during your stay." Of course, Apollo thought. Boundaries to keep him from finding out anything super secret and important. "The Armory holds many powerful artifacts, some of which we do not fully understand, and all are exceedingly dangerous. For your safety, and the safety of Asgard, you may not enter without myself present. In addition, Asgard has a long tradition of honor granted by battle prowess. As such, we have an arena with regular battles. It is forbidden for non-Asgardians to compete, though you are free to attend as many matches as you please.

"Finally, outside of the palace walls, you must remain with an escort at all times, and you may not leave the city proper without my permission. The roads are intentionally confusing, though I encourage you to explore. It has been a long time since we had visitors from another Realm, and the people of Asgard are curious. Outside of the city is wilderness, inhabited by many dangerous creatures. These restrictions are subject to change, though not without discussion. Do you find my terms reasonable?"

"Yes, King Odin," Apollo said. Not much was fully off limits, even their most powerful items in the Armory. Either Asgard didn't have much to hide or Odin thought he was too stupid to find anything worth finding. He wondered what kind of security the Armory had. If it was anything like the what he'd seen so far, limited to guards standing around with spears, it would be no problem getting some of those weapons for Zeus. "I believe it was also a term of my exchange here to ensure that Loki is receiving adequate punishment." Frigga flinched. "I'd like to be able to check in on him occasionally, without warning, to confirm he is truly imprisoned."

"By all means," Odin said. "Loki will spend the rest of his days in the dungeons. I have no bias towards him; he was never my son in anything but title."

Fury scrolled through page after page of Stark's receipts over the past week. He really was going ahead with this Avengers thing. "Doesn't play well with others my ass," he muttered to himself. Stark's aloof jerk façade was slipping. First he 'successfully privatizes world peace', as if flying around in a neon tin can with lasers made him any more effective than a stealth team and all the other secret weapons SHIELD and Hydra and AIM and every organization the public should never find out about had. Now he actually goes and privatizes the team who barely broke a sweat saving the world from an alien invasion.

He knew he should've gotten the Avengers Initiative copywritten.

It would be easy enough infiltrating Stark Industries again to keep an eye on what the Avengers were doing behind closed doors; hell, Romanov's spyware was still up. Stark ignored anything that wasn't the latest and the greatest. All it took to beat his hi-tech security systems was to pose as remnant code from an early OS version. And, if he ever found that, Stark probably wouldn't blink if Romanov or Barton strolled right up to his door wanting to join up.

He switched tabs, watching the real-time manipulation of a building. Stark Mansion, Stark's childhood home turned museum for some of his private collection. Now, he was turning it into some kind of fortress; a base for the Avengers.

Right in the goddamn middle of New York City, as if that didn't paint a giant target on the entire state.

Stark was an idiot of the highest caliber. He was too smart to think things through like any person with sense, relying on some idea that he was God's gift to humanity instead of common sense. Had he already forgotten his little breakdown a few months ago about how dangerous he was to everyone around him?

Fury tossed his tablet across his desk, making the hologram shudder. As if he didn't have enough problems. Did Stark really think that there would be a weekly alien invasion? His tablet beeped; Stark made another purchase under one of his shell accounts; half a mile of marble sheets. Fury rolled his eyes. Vain and tasteless as always.

There were so many people. More than Lyra had ever seen before. She thought that the Institute was well populated, but it was nothing compared to high school. Even with them being almost twenty minutes early, there were tons of people milling around their cars in the parking lot, on the grass, and in the halls. Jean took it upon herself to show her around, it was her duty as student body vice president, whatever that meant.

It was almost too much for her. All the sounds, smells, colors; Lyra had to concentrate harder than ever before. She'd never been in a crowd like this, and decided she never really wanted to be again. She tried to listen to Jean but couldn't, really. Even practicing listening to one person at a time when everyone talked at once at dinner was nothing compared to this. Everyone had something to say and something to do and Lyra felt her head start to burst.

She thought it did when a shrill sound echoed through the hall. Lyra clutched at the sharp pain in her temples and nearly collapsed to the ground, but a strong hand grabbed her and kept her standing. "You alright?" Jean asked. Lyra kept her eyes squeezed shut as Jean lead her over to lean on the wall. "The people are loud and the bells are louder, I know."

Lyra swallowed the pain trickling down her throat. "This is not like the TV."

Jean laughed, and let go of her. "Everyone's thinking louder than usual. We can go back to the Institute, if you like. You don't have to start school if you're not ready."

If you're not ready. What would mommy say? Nothing, probably. She would be too disappointed. "I'm staying." Lyra stood up straight and as tall as she could, ignoring the hurried chatter around her. It was easier now; everyone was hurrying around, not talking.

Jean gave her a once over, as if she was worried Lyra would actually fall. She smiled and breathed out through her nose. "That's good. Your first class is down this way. Don't be afraid to tell Kitty or Kurt if you need something."

"Lyra."

Kurt cringed as Lyra's unflinching stare settled on him as Ms. Reade made her introduce herself at the beginning of class. He wasn't sure how much of it was because of his own discomfort when she forced the same upon him last year and how much was because no amount of contacts or makeup could cover how she never moved when she stood and he'd only seen her blink once.

"Where are you from, and what's your favorite book?" Ms. Reade perched herself on her desk, all youth and smiles. She sipped coffee from a travel mug that had some dumb catchphrase on it.

"I'm from the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. My favorite book is Harry Potter."

Just like they'd practiced, even if it still came off as robotic. Lyra struggled to name a book that Kurt had ever heard before; her original answer-after Evan explained what a 'favorite' is-had sent them all to Google to find a brick of a book on the philosophy of differential calculus.

Ms. Reade hummed in agreement. "Excellent choice. I'm a Ravenclaw, myself," she said, then handed her a copy of Popular Works of Shakespeare and pointed Lyra to the only empty desk in the classroom, all the way in the back, beside Lance. He and Kitty already gave Lyra an explanation for why she shouldn't talk with him, but it really sucked that she would be stuck beside him for the rest of the semester.

He was stuck at the front instead, where Ms. Reade could see all his confused expressions and quietly slip an index card on his desk with definitions and context for whatever assignment they were working on. Kitty didn't like it; she couldn't analyze a text to save her life and complained about the weird old English their books used more than he did. She sat in the middle, where she could hide surrounded by people so they would be called on instead of her.

Alright, something was up with the new girl. Lance figured even Fred could figure that much out. She glared at the board like it owed her money and didn't react when he tried to whisper to her to find out just what her deal was. He tried to pass her a note, and then threw it at her, hitting her straight in the ear. She didn't even flinch. "What the hell?" Lance breathed to himself. He even tried thinking in her direction. Nothing.

She didn't move-did she even blink?-until the bell rang and her fists clenched so hard Lane thought her knuckles were going to burst through her skin. "Hey," he said, "I'm Lance." He held out his hand to her and she didn't seem to notice; she wordlessly put her book in her bag and stood. "Yo, you're from the Institute? I'm like you, y'know."

That got her attention. She turned her head to stare at him over her shoulder, which was way more intimidating than it should have been from some girl who looked like she'd be a hundred pounds soaking wet.

"It's not easy being different here." Lance said. He didn't really have anything better to say; why was this girl so quiet? He didn't like to speak, either. She turned around fully.

"Are you here for a test, too?"

"What?" Lance felt the word spill out of his mouth. Yeah, he had a test in chemistry later, but how would she know, and why would she be thinking about tests on her first day? Not even the most ruthless teachers would do that to her. "I mean, I'm sure you'll pass?"

She blinked and her mouth twitched, but Lance couldn't tell if it was in a smile or frown or what.

And then Kitty physically pulled her away from him, grabbing her wrist and sending him a sharp look. "C'mon, Lyra. Let's go."

Lance couldn't help himself. "Jealous, Kits?" Her face twisted into a scowl and he almost regretted saying it when she stomped out of the classroom.

Tony bounced his leg under his desk at the board meeting. They were almost an hour into the meeting and nobody had given him shit for donating so much money to recovery funds or pledging Stark Industries support for rebuilding like he expected. Apparently, his statements had driven up their stocks so damn much that three executives had already brought up the possibility of a stock split.

And they were under investigation for insider trading, not to mention all the other shit they were under investigation for; alien invasion the least of them. Tony didn't give much of a damn at all. Let them look and waste all those pencil-pusher's hours. He almost felt bad for whoever had to sort through his taxes, receipts, whatever texts they'd been recording. They wouldn't find anything but a whole lot of bulk orders of papaya juice.

Best part was Pepper was finally smiling. It was almost too subtle to notice, but it was definitely there. Sure, she was happy that Stark Industries was doing well, but she grinned even more when they discussed Tony's recovery plans. (The execs decided to send the actual logistics down to some VPs, or something) She was so happy, Tony figured she'd be telling him that he only offered to help to make her like him more, which wasn't true at all.

He wasn't going to think much about why he was putting so much into rebuilding, medical bills, funerals. Everything he'd seen would make one hell of a therapy session in a few days, after the Avengers were all sorted out and construction on the mansion was well underway. Speaking of, what time was it? 3:57.

"Oh, damn," he muttered, standing up so fast it sent his chair rolling backwards. "Hey, guys, love you, but I've gotta run. Pepper can take it from here," Tony said. "I'll get the summary from Jarvis." It's not like he was contributing much to the conversation; everyone knew what he wanted and that he could make what he wanted happen.

Tony sprinted to the landing pad, pressing the elevator butting over and over as if it would speed up the damn thing (it didn't, but he already had a mechanism in mind to fix that little oversight) and making it just in time to see the endings of a giant flash. He was almost glad he missed most of the display; his eyes hurt enough from what he did see.

But Thor never made his eyes hurt. Well, except from when he was going full Thunder God and was throwing lightening like confetti. Cap and Bruce were there, too; Bruce shielded his eyes behind his arm and Cap was looking as cool as ever with some sunglasses on. Neither of them seemed to notice him. "Hey, Lightshow, good trip here?"

Bruce gave him a little "Hey, Tony." He nodded back.

"Aye," Thor answered. He looked around. Aw, he'd never gotten the opportunity to really experience NYC. Tony made a mental note to dump him in the middle of Times Square after everything was…well, not half rubble.

"Welcome back to Earth," Steve joked. "When do you want the grand tour?"

"I am more familiar with this Realm than you." Thor turned his back to them and scanned the city.

Wow, ok. Someone put Thor in a bad mood. Maybe he cared more about Loki than he would admit, or he was going to miss Asgard more than he thought. It wasn't like he couldn't just rainbow back to Asgard any time he wanted. "You alright there, Thor?" Tony asked.

Thor sighed and flipped his hammer almost absentmindedly. Tony wondered (not for the first time) how much it weighed. Now he could actually figure it out, and what exactly kept everyone but him picking the damn thing up. Probably some DNA sensor. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Didn't you bring anything?" Bruce said. "Y'know, like clothes?" Thor shrugged and placed his hammer down gently. Tony appreciated that; he had enough dents in the building to sort out already.

"Alright, well, great and dandy having you." Tony clapped his hands together and spun on his heel. "You've got a room downstairs; Jarvis knows where; just ask. And he's an Artificial Intelligence, not a man trapped in the wall. Please don't break my skyscraper. Avengers meeting tomorrow at 10 am, that's oh-ten-hundred for you, Cap-" Steve made a noise halfway between a groan and a sigh. "-so brunch is on me. Don't be late; that's my job."

"What the fuck?" Bruce startled, and Tony whipped back around. A UPS man stood ten feet out from the balcony.

"Are you Thor? Prince of Asgard? Son of Odin?" The UPS man asked, reading off a tablet.

"Hey, pal, this is restricted air space," Tony said. Bruce had been right: what in the actual fuck? "You can't just be…floating here." The UPS guy scowled and waved him off.

Thor nodded and stepped out onto thin air. Since when could he fly without his hammer? "Excellent!" The UPS guy said. "Now, my teleportation is no Bifrost, but it shouldn't be too jarring." And then the two disappeared in a flash that left spots dancing in Tony's eyes.

Bruce shook his head. "Steve, did you see that? Tell me you saw that!"

"If you mean the flying mailman, yeah, how could I not?" Steve said. What? He walked over to the landing pad and looked up, then down, then shook his head. "Tony, you've got cameras up here, right?"